You notice the other soldiers eyeing you up as you pass through the common room, some of them openly laughing and commenting on your body and appearance. You can see in your peripheral that your Sergeant, John “Soap” MacTavish, is watching, and you catch a glimpse of his glaring expression.

“Watch it, ya bastards,” John’s voice cuts through the room like a knife, silencing the taunts and chuckles. His eyes are dark, a storm brewing in their depths as he strides towards you, his hand outstretched to take you away from the leering eyes of the other soldiers. “You don’t know who yer lookin’ at, so keep your mouths shut ‘less you wanna eat yer teeth for dinner.”